


Prologue

by geniusincombatboots



Series: The Horse and The Swan [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Help from strangers, One Shot, Prologue, Short One Shot, lost on the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusincombatboots/pseuds/geniusincombatboots
Summary: A brief account of Lothiriel finding her way through Rohan on her ill-fated journey.
Series: The Horse and The Swan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707502
Kudos: 16





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a brief one shot, the idea for which I have had a hard time getting out of my head. So what do I do when that happens? I scribble it down quickly and put it into the world.

Lothiriel held the map out against a bolder, tracing her finger over the road that she should have been on, before looking around her for another landmark beyond the far mountains. She tried to measure out the distance with her fingers spaced, before folded the worn parchment and decided to try to find a river or a stream that might prove more accurate. When had her father’s maps been last updated? Did the roads on it even exist anymore? She tucked the map back into Sylmere’s saddle bag, trying to keep her irritation in check as she led her mare long by the reins, shivering a little against the chilling wind, not yet touched by spring.

Finding a piddling stream, she let the rein’s loose and refilled her waterskin, and sat back on her heels adjusting the harness over her shoulders. Perhaps this had been a folly. While not purely of her own making, she should have pointed out her uselessness in the wild. Lothiriel was a city girl by her nature. For the stream, and her frustration, she almost did not hear the horses’ approach. She stood quickly, looking for banners, or some sign of their allegiance. She saw no such sign, but did see yellow hair on the riders, and prayed that the hand she waved would not be cut off.

As they drew closer, she picked out the sigils of Rohan on their armor, and she hoped that they would be hospitable to her plight, as she took Sylmere’s reins again, smoothing her hand over the soft nose to calm her at the approach of the strange men.

“Hello,” she called as they drew nearer her, slowing in their approach, wanting to state her rank and purpose quickly to avoid any interrogation or social awkwardness, and hoping that these were men of honor, “I am Lothiriel, Princess of Dol Amroth. I ask free passage through these lands.”

“It is given, so far as I might grant such a request,” the chief rider dismounted his horse, bowing, “I am Theodred Prince, son of Theoden, your highness.” His tone held a mirthful quality, and she wondered if he was making fun of her bearing and proper speech, “Though I should think to ask what brings you hence.”

She hesitated, looking about his men for any leers, and finding none as well as she could see their faces. “My father is sending me to Imladris until the threat of war has passed. I am meant to stop at Edoras if such a thing might be allowable.”

“Well that might take a while if you mean to continue on your currant path,” Prince Theodred smiled, “You are faced almost entirely the wrong way.”

“Damn,” she grumbled, taking her map back out, and looking at it and then back up to the sky to take the sun’s path as a compass.

“Here,” Prince Theodred smiled, looking at her map, and turning it, “You are here,” he pointed, “But you should be going this way,” his finger traced a path.

“Where is this road, then?”

“Only a mile back or so, though I should warn you that at this time of year it can be hard to spot, if you do not know where to see it.”

“Then perhaps you should do better to mark it,” she grumbled before remembering her manners.

He did not seem to mind, “It is easier to see when the spring growth comes in. We will escort you, to be sure you find your way,” he smiled, “With your leave of course.”

She hesitated, looking at the company of men, a little nervous. Her own experiences with unguarded men left her uncomfortable with the prospect of these men, so far from anyone.

Prince Theodred took careful stock of her anxiety, “On my honor, you will be kept safe.”

0x0x0

He seemed good to his word, and his men did not seem to pose any threat to her, treating her as if she were some lost princeling, and likely as stupid, she thought irritably sitting closer to the camp fire than she likely ought to have, warming her gloved hands over the fire.

“We might not have much of the fineness that you would be used to, but it will keep you warm,” Prince Theodred smiled, offering a hot cup of soup.

“I have subsisted this far on bread and apples,” she admitted, “Thank you, your highness.”

He waved away her gratitude, settling down a little from her.

“How much further is it?” she asked.

“A day’s ride, and not a very hard one. Though I should think you would take the road by Tharbad,” Prince Theodred said, “It would be far safer.”

“My cousin went that way, I think” she admitted, “but the paths seem too winding, and my father wanted me to stop as often as I could where there were people, in case some ill befell me.”

“And he sent you alone?”

“I might draw less attention thus.”

Prince Theodred shrugged, “Perhaps, but you have already lost your way.”

She shot him a look and was rewarded with another laugh.

He held his hand out, “I mean no offense, your highness. I am certain you would have found your way in time. Once you have your heading, it is not so hard to manage.”

“Thank you for your patience,” she said, trying to be more grateful, “I am sure this is far from convenient for you and your men.”

“We are heading back from patrol besides,” Prince Theodred smiled, “So it is your good fortune that you were lost at the right time.”

“Are all of your people so unendingly vexing?” she asked, smiling a little so as to not offer offense.

“You think I am irritating? Meet my cousins and then come back to me, you will find me level-headed and charming by the contrast,” Prince Theodred laughed, settling back on his haunches.

“Oh, of course,” she drained the last of the soup, and settling the earthenware cup aside, wiping her hands delicately. Feeling that she was being a heel to a very nice man who was trying to help her.

“Are your kin all so…” he gestured vaguely.

“High handed and arrogant?” she asked.

Prince Theodred held a hand up, defensively, “May all record show that I never made such a statement as that.”

“No, my brothers are loud and troublesome,” she allowed, laughing a little, “and they think they are funny, and my cousins are little better than that.”

“Have any of your family made one of their troops eat grass?”

Lothiriel gave him a look, waiting for him to elaborate or to tell her that he was making it up as a joke.

“My cousin Eomer has his own Eored, and he was training up some new recruits, and they were green as could be. One of the fools asked what they were meant to eat while on patrol, and he told them that they would live off of the land if they had not thought to bring provisions.”

“Sensible, I suppose,” Lothiriel said, guessing that the Prince wanted someone to find this story as amusing as he did, and guessed that everyone had heard it enough times that they might not.

“To a point, but he was meant to teach them how to do so, but it would seem that he became irritated with the whining, and decided instead that it would be amusing to tell one of the new soldiers that the grass on the plains was full of nutrients.”

“Did the boy fall ill?” Lothiriel pressed a hand over her smile.

“Not terribly,” Prince Theodred laughed, “But Eomer did get a scolding for it. He claimed that it was worth it.”

Lothiriel laughed, “Well I will be sure not to eat anything he tells me is perfectly serviceable.”

“If he gives you any trouble, just give it back.”

“Surely not,” Lothiriel flicked a few bits of broken grass from her skirt, “A lady does not neg.”

Prince Theodred shook his head, “Of course, you have not a retorting bone in your body.”

She rolled her eyes, “Perhaps, but only if no one at home is around to hear.”

“Why?”

“Because I am a princess, and I am meant to be polite and refined,” she said simply.

“Whether you want to be or not?”

She hesitated beginning to formulate a response to how she liked her life, and that with such comfort, and status came duty, but stopped short. What was the point, and how would it serve her anyway? “Yes,” she replied.

0x0x0

Lothiriel rode on along the road, noting the other riders slowing, their eyes cast out ahead of them, “What is it?”

Prince Theodred’s face clouded in irritation, “Wildmen, by the looks of it.” He reverted into his own language, calling back to his men, ten or so rode ahead. Prince Theodred look after them, calculating something in his mind, “We head for the Isen!” he called, rounding his horse a little and heading on.

“But that is the other side of the country,” Lothiriel replied, consulting the basic almanac in her mind.

“Yes, but if the Dunlendings are coming this far into the country, it might be better to get you clear of the plains all together before they send the Army out to put them down.”

She frowned, trying to check her irritation and disappointment. Her family would be waiting to hear from her. But then Boromir had never written anything back at all, and the assumption had been that he had managed it well. Why should she not be able to do so as well. She was hardly as important as him, besides.

Though, if she did just disappear and never come back, she would save herself the headache of telling her uncle where he could shove his proposal. If she never went back, she could live without the leering looks from the old Stewart, and that seemed a blessing in itself. She had wondered if her uncle’s over attentiveness was in some part the reason that the marriage had been proposed in the first place. But she would never say anything about that suspicion to anyone. She was likely imagining it anyway. That was just what she needed, to say something to her family, and be put in a home for the insane. It would serve the family better than causing any discomfort. The lot of them preferred the façade of their upstanding nature more than ensuring that nature itself, she thought.

“Are you well, my lady?” Prince Theodred asked, noting the furrow in her brow.

“Yes, but a… It is nothing.”

Prince Theodred frowned, “Well, at least I may offer you further assistance.”

“And now, I am honestly a burden,” Lothiriel smirked, “I imagine you are eager to return home and rest.”

“Well, at least I need not deal with the matters at home for a while yet,” Prince Theodred smiled, “sometimes it is better to avoid such unpleasant things as long as one can.”

Lothiriel shook her head at the man, not wanting to voice her agreement, wondering how he was keeping his spirits up through the dark times that were pressing in around them all. Perhaps it would serve her well to be more like him, and she knew she had been once, “Are things so terrible there?”

“They could be worse, I suppose. Things are perfectly normal, if you enjoy having your father’s will slowly sapped by an advisor who seems hellbent on the downfall of the kingdom.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Then yes, I suppose things are that bad.”

“And what do you mean to do? You must have some plan of attack,” she asked.

Prince Theodred’s face twisted, “In truth, there is little enough I am able to do at present, unless I mean to turn the currents even harsher against the defense of our country.”

“Perhaps you can poison the advisor.”

“Do not offer such temptations, for if you hold them out so earnestly, I will find it hard to not act on them.”

She shrugged, “Then have someone else do it.”

“I shall remind myself not to travel south. It seems a dangerous land where such refined ladies plot open murder.”

“Only when needed,” she said, “but in truth perhaps you should speak to your father.”

“For all the good that has done yet.”

“I should hope that you would not give up hope so easily as that,” Lothiriel chided, smiling at him.

They had ridden another day, and they slowed to water their horses when they heard the branches breaking behind them in the wood. Lothiriel looked back over her shoulder, at the small sound.

“What was that?” she asked, hoping Prince Theodred would say it was just the wind, but seeing the look on his face, she froze harder within herself.

“Get your horse,” Prince Theodred’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, “You know the direction. Get yourself away.”


End file.
